Looking over the awning at the 23rd floor of my New York Hotel I spot a blue balloon.
In it’s heart it wants to land but life won’t let it.

It almost reaches the ground but the car swooshes it up again,
It almost lands, it doesn’t land.
It flies in the basketball court and the basketball hits it,
it’s thrown into the park and the gust of wind orders it into southern directions,
a businessman hits it with his rolled up Newsweek,
it heads out in the street again but the ambulance throws it of it’s course.
Constantly unwillingly.

It almost lands, it doesn’t land.
There it goes, higher…
Then it bursts, it’s free.

I’m a blue balloon, but unlike the blue balloon I don’t want to land.
I want to get thrown into the action, up in the air,
I’m hungry and want to get pushed into the sky by businessmen and Newsweek,
I want to transcend in the park and get caught by the breeze,
let the gusts of wind bring me up home.
Constantly willingly.

I almost land, I don’t land
There I go, higher..
But I will never burst but always be free.

New York 2007-05-27